


Down to a Fine Art

by MiniNephthys



Series: Lark's Tongues In Aspic [2]
Category: JoJo no Kimyouna Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Community: cottoncandy_bingo, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1264066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniNephthys/pseuds/MiniNephthys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diavolo is tense and impatient.  Doppio tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down to a Fine Art

**Author's Note:**

> In the same verse as [When We Were Lost](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1161707), but really all you need to know is 'they're reincarnated as separate people who are now dating'. So I'm not sure if I should bother to make that a series.

“You’re really worrying about nothing,” Doppio says, gently rubbing Diavolo’s bare shoulders. “I mean, every organization gets new people sometimes. Giorno Giovanna isn’t going to take your job.”

Diavolo grumbles into a pillow. “I’ve worked to get to where I am today. I deserve the right to worry about potential threats.”

“I get that he’s rising a little fast in the business, but Diavolo…” Doppio sighs. “You’re just going to make yourself sick panicking like this, and it’s not going to help.”

“I suppose.” Diavolo is silent for a moment. “I shouldn’t complain to you so much, considering your circumstances. You’re sure you don’t want to work as my assistant? I could pull enough strings to get you-”

“It’s a really, really generous offer,” Doppio interrupts, “but you know I don’t have the actual qualifications yet, and it’d be weird calling you boss all the time anyway. At least let me get through school first. My job right now isn’t _that_ bad, for the service industry.”

“As you wish.” Diavolo lets Doppio continue to massage his shoulders. “You’re getting better at this.”

“You’re the only one I practice on.” Doppio slides his hands down further. “Maybe I should try getting a job as a masseur, huh?”

“No,” says Diavolo.

“Obviously I wouldn’t do any-”

“No.” Diavolo remains firm. “Just me.”

“All right, whatever you say.” Doppio’s hands slide gradually down Diavolo’s back, kneading out the tension. He takes his time, working slowly and carefully.

“Doppio…”

“Yes?” When Diavolo doesn’t continue, merely shifts restlessly, Doppio chuckles. “I know you’re hard, you’ve been hard for two minutes. But I’m not done yet, so just let me finish.”

Diavolo makes an effort to stay still long enough for Doppio to completely work the tension out of his body. It’s an effort, but Diavolo manages somehow not to disturb the process.

“Doppio,” he groans, after Doppio has worked his feet for what feels like ages, “I’d like you to stop now.”

Doppio smiles and pulls his hands away. “Did you enjoy that?”

“Very much.” Diavolo makes a move to change positions, but Doppio stops him by sitting on his legs. “What-?”

“I don’t think I promised anything specific after,” says Doppio. His smile is turning more cunning by the second, and he has a bottle of lubricant in his hand. “But I would like to get you off. And you trust me, don’t you?”

It takes a moment, but Diavolo answers, “Yes.”

He isn’t used to the feeling of slicked fingers inside of him: it’s always been Doppio in this position, and though Doppio rarely complains, it often looks uncomfortable. He’s as relaxed as he could be after that massage, however, so the presence of one or two fingers doesn’t draw any pain. Doppio is even more careful and methodical with this than with the massage, slowly spreading his fingers and paying close attention to any signs of discomfort.

Three is more uncomfortable, but Diavolo knows from personal observation that Doppio is still a little bigger than that, and so is he. If Doppio can take it without complaint, so can Diavolo.

Something in him is brushed by a fingertip and suddenly complaint is the last thing on Diavolo’s mind. He moans, only slightly muffled by his pillow.

“That’s one of the better parts,” says Doppio. He nudges it again, and again, each time drawing out a loud groan from Diavolo at the unfamiliar pleasure. “You know, most men can’t actually get off just like this. I wonder how long I could just do this to you before you tried to kill me?”

Diavolo lifts his head off the pillow. “Doppio.”

“Yes?”

“If you’re not inside of me in the next fifteen seconds, you’ll suffer a fate worse than death,” he growls.

Doppio gulps and gently removes his fingers. He drops his pants and underwear and applies lubricant to himself, taking longer than fifteen seconds but Diavolo is inclined to allow him extra time for that part, and then slowly presses in.

He’s not small. Diavolo can feel how careful Doppio’s being with him, how slowly he moves and how he stops at every hitch in Diavolo’s breath until he’s adjusted. It’s what he’d expect of Doppio, and had he not had his body teased for what felt like ages before this, he might appreciate it more. He still is glad that it’s not more painful, but mostly he’s frustrated with his own inability to adjust to it more quickly.

“You’re tensing up again,” says Doppio. His voice is shaking. “Don’t try to force it, just give it a minute…”

Diavolo supposes he should listen to the person who is more frequently in this position. He lets himself relax and gradually, the discomfort fades. “You can move,” he says.

“Are you su-”

“ _Move_.”

Doppio withdraws, not all the way, and then slides in again. He’s still fairly slow, but the feeling isn’t as strange the second time around, or the third. After the fourth he stops counting, because Doppio finally reaches around to stroke in the same rhythm as his thrusts and that’s distracting, to say the least.

Diavolo swears into his pillow. He wishes Doppio’d go a little bit faster, or harder, or both, but he’s letting Doppio control the pace right now, and Doppio is still being careful with him. It’s just that his care is turning out to make him the biggest tease that he has ever been.

He’ll have to be encouraging. “Harder,” he says, ignoring how his voice wavers with each thrust.

“Isn’t it your first-”

He growls. “I’ve had your hands on me for the better part of the hour, I don’t care how virginal I am, you are going to _fuck me harder_.”

Doppio ups the pace without further objection. His strokes keep matching his thrusts and Diavolo doesn’t care how loud that makes him moan as long as Doppio doesn’t slow down again.

Doppio isn’t quiet either, a near-constant string of gasps and murmurs of Diavolo’s name leaving his lips as he continues to move. Diavolo can’t see his face from his position, and he suddenly wishes that he could, to see the pleasure written across his expression as stark as when Diavolo is the one inside of him.

As Doppio grows louder, his concentration slips enough for his hand to fall out of tempo with the press of his hips against him. It doesn’t take much longer after that for Doppio to finish, and Diavolo would find the sensation of come inside of him to be strange if he were not so preoccupied with getting to his own climax.

Doppio is at least aware enough to keep his hand moving until Diavolo finishes as well. Then, slowly, he pulls out of him. Breathing hard, he reaches for a nearby towel to wipe them off.

Diavolo turns to look at him properly. “You could have warned me that you were planning this.”

“It was actually spur of the moment, after staring at you for that whole massage,” Doppio replies. “Have I told you lately that you’re gorgeous?”

A chuckle. “Frequently. I wouldn’t mind repeating that experience… just don’t tease me so much beforehand.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re impatient…”


End file.
